Nov 03 2009
There’s no way I can Nano Nano tonight. Leaving school for three days to go be in a family wedding in California. No use trying to force it — I’ll just write double the amount when I’m on the plane. I love what this challenge is doing to my life, so I don’t want to spoil it by making it stressful. Off to do sub plans…Ugh!
Mar 19 2009
[no SOL graphic here since Edublogs is out of order -- once again...]
It is one thing to sit down on a school night and write a really intense post even when you’d rather eat dinner or talk to someone or watch TV. It’s another thing when you decide to sit here anyway, because you are into it, and you want to contribute, but the damn site eats your text. Edublogs is having a rough week and really messing with my slices.
I can’t find what I wrote in the last hour. It was about how last night I laughed so hard it made up for a lot of sadness. I don’t have it in me to write it over, and it was gone even after I saved it.
I don’t recommend Edublogs.
Mar 18 2009
As I was preparing to leave school today, after an intense first day of the third trimester, a beautiful boy walked into my room and said, “I just wanted you to know. My mother passed away this morning…”
I knew his mom was going to die. We both did. Last week he told me Hospice was called in and that she was in a hospital bed set up in the living room. On morphine. Bad cancer…
So I hugged him hard and for a long time, and we didn’t let go in some awkward teacher/student uncomfortable moment because it was raw and real and needed. We tried to say the usual things — she’s at peace, out of pain, in a better place. Everybody is going to be saying this to you, I said. He winced. I know.
Outside my classroom door, his little brother and Auntie waited for him. The younger boy was smiling and jumping around a bit. He looked like a smaller version of my sad linebacker boy. I wondered if he was in shock — or relieved — or in the dark. Sons shouldn’t lose their mothers this soon. The balance of it all was suddenly very off and I looked at him and started to cry.
I’ll never forget the way he responded to my tears. He didn’t cry. He just looked at me as if he was trying to say thank you. Then he walked out the door and put his hand on his brother’s head, and they all walked quietly down the hall.
Mar 17 2009
Day #17 of The Slice of Life Story Challenge…
Sometimes Edublogs makes it really difficult to post. I had so much to say tonight, but I’m tired of having it erased and mangled. It was a really tough day and I wanted to write about it, but after three times of losing my text — I’ve had it. Must not be the right time.
It began like this:
As I was preparing to leave school today, after an intense first day of the third trimester, a beautiful boy walked into my room and said, “I just wanted you to know. My mother passed away this morning…”
I’ll find a way to write about this when there are no obstacles. At this moment, Edublogs, you are a drag…
Mar 11 2009
My lovely BFF (”Best Friends Forever”), Janet, had something to celebrate tonight, and we joined her at a local restaurant to share her joy. Today is the day she takes her last pill, in five years, to combat breast cancer. At this point, they told her, you don’t need it any longer. It is a little scary for her, letting go of something that helped her to heal. Still, she’s ready, and we were all to happy to support her in this milestone.
We ate calamari with leeks and carrots, shrimp, scallops, bread and garlic butter, green and black olives, ravioli, and fried mozzarella in red sauce. We drank deep, dark, red Italian wine as a toast. It was a true celebration of her life, and I can’t imagine life without her…
Mar 01 2009
I’m going to give the Slice of Life Writing Challenge a try! It seems daunting to try to write every day for the next 31 days, but exciting as well. My first slice will be about one of my favorite getaways: Brattleboro, Vermont.
When winter overwhelms me, I take a road-trip to Brattleboro to clear my head of all negative thoughts concerning dwindling firewood, ice damns on the roof, and analytical essays that beg to be graded. I love the vibe — independent bookstores, a funky microbrewery, hippies and cute dogs on the street, a massive camping/clothing store that gives away free popcorn, and the cafes and restaurants that offer all different kinds of food.
One of my favorite places to eat might be referred to as a dive, but I don’t see it that way. Tucked away down an alley near the main parking lot, this little pizza place has some of the best red sauce I’ve ever tasted. It’s dark inside and the ceiling is covered with plastic wine vines and dusty purple grapes. White twinkie lights illuminate the vinyl checkered tablecloths, and menu items are scrawled on the backs of paper plates that are taped to the wall.
I like to write for awhile after I finish my cheesy sausage sub. It’s fun to eavesdrop on conversations and record the random thoughts of other diners. One day a 79 year-old feisty woman sat down at the table next to me and started talking to anyone who would listen — at that time it was a toddler in a high chair. I lowered my head to my journal, always wary of long-winded strangers who might be kooks. I eyed the heads of dead animals that curled around her neck, a fur coat that had seen better days. She caught me looking and began her story.
She told me she was going to attend two art gallery openings that afternoon and a jazz concert later that evening. She asked me if I wanted to come along. I liked her kookiness — she was interesting and intelligent — but I got nervous when she offered me her phone number. I have to run, I told her. Her reply unnerved me. “Oh, I bet you do,” she said.
I felt young and hurtful, as if I was running from the nursing home after a horrible visit with my grandmother. I gave her a little guilty wave as I walked out the door. She didn’t notice. She was already talking to the family at another table. Something about jazz.
Nov 09 2008
I’ve been a faithful reader of a blog by a teacher from California who is now in hot water (possibly) because of what he writes on his blog. As much as I enjoy reading the rants and raves of other educators, I’m afraid to be that open on my own blog. Can we lose our jobs because we blog? He’s totally anonymous in his, yet he’s been “traced” and identified. I wish him well, and I will miss his honest writing.
Sep 07 2008
I haven’t posted anything in so long! I was so protective of my privacy this summer, but being back in the classroom has me in a more collaborative mode. I love reading blogs, but don’t exactly know what this one has to say. So…this is another test to see if I still know how to navigate around edublogs. We’ll see.
